


Keeping the Peace

by Philomytha



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: AU, Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-25
Updated: 2011-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philomytha/pseuds/Philomytha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Komarr divided between the Barrayarans and the Cetagandans, Rebecca Galen leads a mere puppet government. But even a puppet can sometimes win a round, even against Ezar Vorbarra. AU of <em>Shards of Honor</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping the Peace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tel/gifts).



The Crown Prince of Barrayar was dead. Rebecca Galen would shed no tears for him, having spent the entire of his visit to East Solstice trying to dodge his wandering hands, but she wished he could have had the courtesy to wait until he was back on Barrayar to suffer a fatal accident.

At least, she devoutly prayed it was an accident. Assassination, along with espionage and sabotage, were major growth industries in both East and West Solstice, on either side of the force screen that divided the domed city and thence the planet itself in half. The other dividing line was over the ocean, and therefore politically uninteresting, but the capital was evenly divided between the Barrayarans and the Cetagandans, and the only connecting feature remaining was Rebecca in her persona of Mayor of Solstice, an interface by which the two occupiers could negotiate and interact at arm's reach and the delicate infrastructure of the city could function.

But it did seem to be a bubble-car accident. The Prince had been on his way to visit the portion of the shuttleport district that lay within East Solstice, travelling by the new and celebrated bubble-cars, installed by the Galen Transport Company just before the invasion, and his bubble-car had derailed and crashed, killing the Prince, another Vor lord and the three security men riding with him. A tragic accident. The Barrayaran secret police were tearing the scene to shreds, and no doubt if there was evidence of anything else, they would find it. Rebecca prayed they would not.

She knew just how quickly the fragile peace here could fall apart. They'd held it together for four years because the Cetagandans and the Barrayarans both found it more profitable to share power on Komarr and divide Komarr's wormhole jumps between them than to slug it out in a protracted and too-evenly-balanced war. But both sides had their warmongers, and an assassination of the second in power on Barrayar would be something the Barrayarans could not ignore.

She looked again at the last note from Anna Toscane. The Toscane trade fleets gave her good information on the status of the Barrayaran and Cetagandan fleets, each massed a single wormhole jump away from Komarr, and Anna reported that the Barrayaran fleet had been strengthened and seemed more active. The trade ships couldn't look too closely at the warships, of course, but they saw more than Rebecca thought the militarists would like.

Of course, that strengthening might just be on account of the Crown Prince's visit, but it seemed awfully convenient. A single warship had already jumped into Komarran local space when the news had reached it, though it had sealed its weapons in accordance with the Interstellar Peace Mission's requirements. But those seals could easily be broken.

Her private comlink vibrated, and Rebecca spoke into it. "Galen here."

"Rebecca," said her brother's voice, and Rebecca's eyebrows shot up. She argued that she was doing her best to protect the ordinary Komarrans in both halves of the now-divided city, he said she was a mere puppet used by both sides to legitimise their rule, and as a result they rarely spoke. But her brother's voice was urgent and serious. "I'm at work, and I've just been looking around and--well, think you need to see this. I'm transferring a file to you right now."

The comlink beeped when the file was downloaded. "What is it?" she asked.

"I'd rather not--just watch it and... and do whatever you think best. I don't want anything to do with it."

And that was her brother all over: so idealistic he would rather turn his back than get involved in the mucky business of politics. "All right," she said cautiously. "How are the boys?" she added, since she wasn't sure when she would next get the chance to ask.

"David's going through a phase of being obsessed with pre-spaceflight history. Aztecs and Nehru and Napoleon and all sorts of stuff." His voice warmed a little. "Ben's got a girlfriend, he says. They talk on their comlinks all evening."

"Aww, young love," she said. "Give them all a hug from their Auntie Rebecca, okay?"

"Yeah. And ... just watch that, please."

"I will."

He cut the comm, and Rebecca pulled up the file. She recognised the code on it instantly, an old memory from the years she'd spent working on the bubble-car project. The safety cam. The Barrayaran secret police had refused to permit Galen investigators examine the bubble-car and try to identify what had gone wrong; the young Imperial Security lieutenant who had swooped down had been polite but extremely firm, and Rebecca had no wish to butt heads with ImpSec if she could avoid it. But perhaps ImpSec didn't know that all the bubble-cars had safety cams that fed instantly into Galen Transport's management computers. And that was where her brother worked these days.

She started the recording, multiple simultaneous recordings from different angles. The security men, sweeping the car. The Prince and his companion, Lord Rulf Vorhalas, entering. She looked down at the metadata: everything seemed within the normal parameters to her, though it had been a while since she'd had to have all the figures at her fingertips. Two minutes of the five men riding in the car, nothing happening. Then she saw it on one of the cameras. A mere flick of the fingers from Rulf Vorhalas, inserting something into bubble-car's service data port. And then everything crashed, and the image cut out.

She selected that recording and replayed it in slow motion, three times. She couldn't identify what Vorhalas was putting into the port, but it wasn't hard to guess. Something that had overridden the computers and made the car derail, something he could conceal even from the security guards around him until it was too late.

It was an assassination, then, but a Barrayaran one. Presumably the ImpSec investigation would figure this out as soon as they dissected the bubble-car's computer. It would take longer without a Galen tech, but Rebecca had a healthy respect for ImpSec's computing skills. Considering that a bare generation ago they'd known of computers only as powerful machines of legend, they'd done amazingly well to match the Cetagandans and the Komarrans.

But Barrayar was a divided society. Rebecca didn't know all there was to know about Barrayaran internal politics, but she knew that the Prince was of one faction and Vorkosigan of another, and Vorhalas was Vorkosigan's crony. If this was part of some internal fighting by the Barrayarans, would the Cetagandans be tempted to attack? Or would the peace break some other way? There were too many possibilities, none of them good.

Her work console buzzed, breaking in on her thoughts. "Galen here," she answered.

"Madame Mayor," her aide's voice said, and that alerted her, because Niamh usually called her Rebecca, "Admiral Vorkosigan is here to see you. And the Commodore."

"Right now?" Rebecca asked, more to gain a moment to think than because she had any doubt. "Do you know what it's about?"

"No, Sera, but he says it's urgent."

"Very well. Send them up."

She took a moment to compose herself. This could only be about the Prince's death. She supposed it was good that the Butcher was bringing the Betan observer, Commodore Naismith, who was commanding the interstellar team of observers sent to monitor shipping and conditions and to adjudicate disputes. Neither the Barrayarans nor the Cetagandans liked them much, but they were a condition imposed by most of the major shipping lines who would otherwise have been extremely hesitant about sending their fleets through what was still a war zone, if in a cold war.

Her office door slid open and Niamh admitted the ill-matched pair, Admiral Vorkosigan politely bowing Commodore Naismith through before him. A faint smile touched Naismith's lips.

"Good afternoon, Sera Galen," the Butcher said. Rebecca had learned to work with the Butcher of Komarr, but every time she saw him she thought of the ground strike on undefended, unmilitary Green Park Dome and the thousands killed. He'd always claimed it had been an accident, but it had bought him Komarr's instant and terrified surrender. Until the Cetagandan attack the following month brought war back again... Rebecca smoothed her face and gave a more genuine smile to Commodore Naismith.

"Hi, Rebecca," she said. "I'm along for the ride again today." But her serious expression belied her light tone.

Rebecca nodded gravely. Betan informality and Barrayaran--and worse, Cetagandan--manners were a peculiar combination. "What can I do for you?" Rebecca said. "Have you any more news about the terrible accident?"

Vorkosigan stood straight. "I'm afraid so, Sera. Our investigation shows that the accident was brought about by a failure of the bubble-car's control computer. We handed the computer over to Commodore Naismith and her team, and they have shown that the failure was not an accident. It was caused by a virus of Cetagandan origin. It's looking very like a Cetagandan assassination, Sera. And that will require a full response by the Barrayaran government. I am informing you that our fleet will be placed on a war footing immediately."

Rebecca looked at Naismith, who was pale and grim. "I'm sorry," Naismith said. "I've been in discussion with Admiral Vorkosigan and his people for the past hour. They are determined on this, and we will be withdrawing our delegation immediately."

War. The Barrayarans were about to resume war with the Cetagandans, on her planet, in her city. "I see," she said. "Needless to say, I protest this decision in the strongest possible terms."

"I am sorry for it," Vorkosigan said, so earnestly she almost believed him. "I know it will bring you hardship. But our Crown Prince has been killed, the Emperor's son, and we have evidence that it was the Cetagandans who were responsible. This offence against our Emperor cannot go unanswered."

"How convenient," Rebecca murmured quietly, and Vorkosigan's eyes narrowed at her voice. "Admiral Vorkosigan, I would like to show you something. And you, Commodore Naismith." She pulled out her private comm and flicked up the screen again. Her two visitors looked on as she selected the file her brother had sent her. "This is the security cam from the bubble-car. It transmitted instantly to our control computers at Galen Transport until the crash occurred."

"Those files were destroyed by the virus," Naismith said.

"Not ours." She slowed it, and they watched Lord Vorhalas insert the data cube. "A Cetagandan assassination, you say?" she said at the end, sweetly.

Vorkosigan's face was very grim, and Rebecca suddenly wondered if she'd made a major mistake. The Barrayaran fleet was massing, they had cooked up a pretext for war, and she had just become an obstacle. Vorkosigan had killed men with his bare hands, according to the stories.

"This is not the only copy," she added, hoping her voice was steady. "I suppose you could argue that your Lord Vorhalas was a Cetagandan agent, but I think if I send this to ghem-Admiral Tan, he might have a different view. And the Betans might wish to look into things more closely."

"Is this true?" Naismith was staring at Vorkosigan. "Are we just your tools, Aral?"

"Not my tools," he whispered. He turned to look directly at Rebecca. "You think you can avert the war with this, Sera Galen?"

"I think I can try," she said, and to her surprise, a slight smile crossed his face, instantly gone.

"I see," he said. "Well, in the light of this ... new evidence, I think our investigators should reconsider their conclusions. It may be that this was merely a tragic accident. I think that would be an ... acceptable conclusion."

Naismith frowned. "But--"

"Complications about the cause of any computer failure would not be advisable," Vorkosigan said. "And--we must consider the families. I think Rulf might have preferred this." A shadow of real grief touched his face for a moment. "Will you support us, Commodore Naismith?"

She sighed. "It's my job to make sure we keep the peace here. Yes, I will support this."

"Good. Sera Galen, you have my word as Vorkosigan that the investigation will ascribe the Prince's death to an accident. In fact--" he raised his wrist-comm to his mouth and punched in a code, "Simon? I need to see you immediately. Pause everything until you've spoken to me."

Rebecca couldn't hear the reply, but Vorkosigan nodded.

"Now, about your copy of this information--"

"I will be keeping it," Rebecca said. "I will not reveal it to anyone, so long as you keep your side of the agreement." She paused. "If you will accept it, I will give you my word as Galen." She had few enough bargaining chips in her hand; it would be madness to give this up when all the warships belonged to Vorkosigan.

Vorkosigan looked less than pleased, but said nothing.

"It wasn't your idea, was it?" Naismith said suddenly. She'd been watching Vorkosigan intently. Now he turned to her, and said nothing, but gave the slightest shake of his head. Naismith smiled.

Rebecca filed that away for thinking about later.

"Then I have much to do," Vorkosigan said. "I will go and make sure that the annoucements are all correct. And speak to my ... advisors." He added that last in a voice that sent a shiver up Rebecca's spine. "All will be as we have decided."

He came to attention and, to her surprise, saluted Rebecca and Naismith. "Good afternoon, Sera Galen. Commodore Naismith, I will need to speak with you again soon."

"I need to talk to my people too," she said. "I hope all this works."

"It will," Vorkosigan said in a tone of utter conviction, then turned to the door.

"A word with you, Cordelia, please," Rebecca added after Vorkosigan had left. "I know you're about to be very busy, but I need to say one thing quickly."

Naismith raised her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"Please don't make me ask for your resignation."

Instead of protesting, Naismith blushed a little. "I'm not--we haven't--"

"I know. And so far I don't think it's impairing your judgement. I know you're Betan and have a different view of this anyway, but you need to understand that neither I nor ghem-Admiral Tan will accept an 'independent' observer who's in bed with the Barrayarans."

At that, Naismith gave a small snort. "He asked me to marry him during the first week. I don't think I'd get him to bed unless I accept." She sobered. "I do understand your concerns. I won't betray my mission here, and if ... if it works out, I'll resign immediately."

"That's all I ask." The idea of someone fancying the Butcher of Komarr baffled Rebecca, but Cordelia was a strange woman. "The last thing we need right now is a new scandal."

"There won't be one. And, if this all holds together, there won't be a war either." Profound relief crossed Naismith's face. "I spent an hour arguing with him and his ImpSec man and the other admirals, and... it was like talking to a machine, Rebecca. He doesn't want war, truly. I think he's glad you gave him an excuse to hold back."

"This time," Rebecca muttered. "If someone else is pulling his strings, they'll try again."

Naismith could only shrug helplessly. "I don't know. It was starting to look like a stable situation here. The longer it lasts, the harder it will be to destabilise it."

"Then we'll just keep holding on." Rebecca straightened. "Thank you, Commodore Naismith."

Naismith too hurried off about her duties, and Rebecca sat down to think. Someone was pulling Vorkosigan's strings, and the only person she thought it might be was the Emperor himself. The Emperor assassinating his son in order to start a new war with the Cetagandans seemed a little unlikely, but this was Barrayar, and they said the Prince had tried to assassinate his father. But Ezar was old, and Vorkosigan would outlive him.

Freedom for Komarr was a long, long way off, but at least, Rebecca thought, she might be able to keep the peace.


End file.
